A bruise wasn't that bad, although he wondered momentarily if a bruise would even be visible underneath a layer of fur. It would still be sore but what was he going to do, start handing out ice? It wasn't going to be a problem. Wenigsten looked back over to Aldric for his question, but was startled out of his initial reply by Bast rushing past them towards the dock. Her sudden exit alerted him to the fact that the gangplank was now clear, except for some armor-clad dock worker boarding the ship. They were free to go, and he joined Aldric in his walk across the ramp. "I'm hoping to find a tavern or somewhere that will let me set up shop. Someone is going to have to keep all these adventurers sewn up," he said, answering the stalled question and immediately regretting his choice of expression. "And hopefully there's a clinic with actual tools looking for skilled hands," he went on, trying to change the tone as they strolled onto the pier towards Bast. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure everyone is," he said, dismissing the apology.

---

The captain was deeply absorbed in his own affairs, long past caring about the offload of his passengers and humming a jaunty little sea shanty as he watched the waves. His concentration was shattered by a question posed from behind him. Captain. He was not used to hearing that title, if he hadn't been conversing with the Pomrians earlier he probably wouldn't have been accustomed to answering to it. The white haired young man turned around slowly to see who was addressing him, some sturdy looking guy he hadn't seen around before nor been told to expect. Lovely. Immediately apparent about the captain was the bizarre shade of orange his eyes were, and they were now locked on the stranger on his boat. They were searching, intense, easily mistakable for angry if the rest of his face wasn't owned by a serene glow and a small smile. "Yes, I am the captain. Why are you here?"